


EGO

by sidnihoudini



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another late Saturday afternoon, and Chris again finds himself fighting with the lock of the Quinto residence, a device which only Zach has apparently been able to master.</p><p>”Son of a,”  He grumbles to nobody, gritting his teeth as he body checks what seems to be the weakest point in the door, and then twists his wrist pointedly, about to snap with anger when the key finally clicks in the lock.</p><p>In the process of fighting the entryway, he’s managed to drop half of his belongings, and has already lost one of his gym shoes to the shrubbery garden Zach is so intent to grow underneath the living room window, but he’s on a roll with the spontaneous entry now, and finds absolutely no reason to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	EGO

Zach is nothing if not a man with total intent.

In high school, he made a career out of leaving every project until the night before it was due, which would be when he would lock himself in his bedroom, and write for three hours straight. Through college, the relationships he maintained were often fast, dirty, and completely concentrate. And, through his early years, Joe was a constant source of distraction, trying his absolute damndest to catch Zach’s attention only for this or that bad idea, but through it all, Zach had managed to prevail.

The minute that Zach is outed by both Kristen and Tyler as a cover-to-cover in one sitting, unshakeable force kind of a man, Chris, well. That’s the exact moment that he decides he will be the guy to rattle him.

.

Tuesday afternoon has Zach returning from Skylight with a tray holding only Chris’ cup of coffee balanced in one arm, Noah’s leash looped around his wrist, a wrinkled plastic bag hanging from his other arm, his own coffee in one hand, and his cell phone in the other.

Idly, Chris looks up from where he’s relaxed across the sofa with his laptop when he hears the door swing open, otherwise abandoning his half-assed perusal of Mental Floss to watch Zachary instead.

“I understand, believe me,” Zach pauses to laugh, stooping down and almost dropping everything as he unclips Noah, and tosses the leash over the wingback of the armchair he always bitches about Chris leaving his jacket on. “Well of course it concerns me, my problem is that nobody really gets what the big issue is.”

Then he’s walking past Chris, still otherwise staring at him, where he pauses only long enough to almost drop the coffee tray on Chris’ laptop before he continues on through to the kitchen, still talking away into his cellphone, and now standing at the counter rustling around inside of the plastic bag.

Chris sips at his coffee, throws the cardboard holder down onto the floor, and pushes himself up to peer over the back edge of the couch, watching as Zach flips his hair off of his forehead like he always does when he doesn’t think anyone else is watching. The paperback that materializes from the plastic bag is quickly arranged into one of the many stacks on the counter top, before Zach is continuing on to the bedroom, quickly disappearing around the corner.

Eyeing the book innocently sitting on the counter top, Chris’ mind gets carried away with him as he starts imagining all kinds of great shit regarding it, at least until Noah catches him peering in an apparently mysterious-to-a-dog way and chokes on his water, skittering across the kitchen floor in effort to get in on the game he thinks Chris is playing.

“Noah wait!” He yelps in one breath, scrambling to secure his laptop and coffee in two mutually exclusive locations before the dog comes launching over the arm of the sofa, breathing heavy and mouth soaked with bowl water as he navigates across Chris’ lower torso.

In-between trying to hold his coffee high enough to defy the force of gravity, and unenthusiastically playing with Noah with his free arm, Chris realizes that at this very moment, his life has just become a very simple waiting game.

.

The book sits there for days.

Chris is looking at it over Zach’s shoulder the entire time they make out against the counter’s edge, waiting for dinner to cook. One morning he almost brings it up just to draw Zach’s seemingly forgotten attention back to it over breakfast. Halfway through a movie break, while Zach is letting the dog out the back door and Chris is rummaging through the fridge, Chris almost has a coronary when Zach wanders over to the book and picks it up, re-reading the synopsis on the back idly.

“What?” Zach asks, raising one eyebrow when he catches Chris watching him, and pointedly no longer looking for snacks. “Have you read this before or something?”

Leaning back into the fridge, Chris yanks out a thing of salsa, and then the sangria they very poorly made before dinner, and raises both eyebrows, feigning nonchalance. For such a good actor, he is a significantly terrible liar.

“No, not yet,” He says, raising his eyebrows a little further as he jostles the food back over to the counter, and Zach returns to the door. “I think I read it was decent, though, I don’t know.”

The vague look of interest Zach sends his way is horrifying at best.

.

Another late Saturday afternoon, and Chris again finds himself fighting with the lock of the Quinto residence, a device which only Zach has apparently been able to master.

”Son of a,” He grumbles to nobody, gritting his teeth as he body checks what seems to be the weakest point in the door, and then twists his wrist pointedly, about to snap with anger when the key finally clicks in the lock.

In the process of fighting the entryway, he’s managed to drop half of his belongings, and has already lost one of his gym shoes to the shrubbery garden Zach is so intent to grow underneath the living room window, but he’s on a roll with the spontaneous entry now, and finds absolutely no reason to stop.

“What the hell,” Chris bitches, as soon as the door swings open, hits the wall behind it, and he sees Zach sitting not ten feet away, bare feet propped up on the coffee table as he sits quietly, sunken into one end of the sofa. “I was fighting with your bitch of a security precaution for _the last ten minutes_ and you’ve been sitting right here the whole time?”

Zach offers him a half-assed glance over the edge of the book.

“Hundred and twenty three pages left,” Chris is greeted, as Zach jostles the paperback he’s holding in one hand. Not at all mollified by the explanation, Chris remains standing in the same spot, bitch stance in full force with his hips out, the door wide open, and all of his belongings dangerously close to being thrown in a pile on the floor. “You should probably come back in an hour.”

Expertly missing the point, Chris “swings” (read: slams) the door closed with the side of his sneaker, and replies, “You can’t read that much in an hour. And I came here from the gym.”

”Oh good.” Zach goes back to his book. “You must be nice and aromatic, then. Totally raging with testosterone.”

Chris sets his lone gym shoe down against the back of the armchair, frowns, and tries not to let Zach in on to the fact that he’s still trying to figure out what ‘nice’ and ‘aromatic’ really adds up to.

“Let’s go to dinner,” He tries instead, slapping the toe of his gym shoe.

Zach doesn’t even look over at him this time, as he says, “It’s three-thirty.”

”Well.” Chris pauses, and licks the corner of his mouth, thinking as he starts to fiddle with the knotted shoelace. “We can watch that movie I brought last night, then.”

This time Zach doesn’t even use words, he only jostles his book around in mid-air like that’s supposed to mean anything to Chris. Frowning at that, Chris quickly realizes that Kristen had been totally right about Zach’s weird reading compulsion, and that this is actually going to be much harder than originally thought.

“I’ll help you move those patio bricks you’ve been complaining about all week,” Chris bargains in a moment of inspiration, as he raises one eyebrow and waits for Zach’s response. There is none. “Zach.”

After another beat of silence and then thick hesitation, Zach finally looks over, though most of his face is still obscured by the top line of his book. Chris raises his eyebrows, and tries to arrange his expression in a way that says ‘doesn’t want you to read right now, but also willing to compromise.’

“Babe, one hour. Sixty minutes,” Zach tells him, words clipped as his attention wavers back over to his book, and he readies to flip the page he’s currently on. “Then we can watch a movie, re-cement the back porch, go to Fix Burger, _whatever you want,_ but until I can tell you how this,” He shakes the book meaningfully. “Ends, I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris licks his lips, watching as Zach’s gaze travels back down to the bottom left page of his book, and then half-smiles, holding onto the back of the armchair with both hands as he toes off his sneakers.

”That’s fine,” He says, a plan forming in his head so quickly that there really should be a resounding _click_ echoing throughout the room. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chris is pretty sure that Zach gives him one last skeptical glare from the corner of his eyes as he smiles one last time and then turns, trying to keep the jaunt out of his step as he starts to walk across the hardwood floors.

As he passes by the fridge, Chris lowers the zipper of his jeans in time to the sound of one more page flipping by in Zachary’s paperback.

.

Ten minutes later Chris walks back across the kitchen tile with purpose, the rounds of his shoulders still damp with shower water as both bare feet squeak against the floor. Zach is, unsurprisingly, still in his spot on the couch, the back of his head a stark contrast against the gray upholstery.

To say that Zach is sufficiently surprised when Chris drops down onto the couch beside him, and, without saying one word, immediately goes for the drawstring of his yoga pants with both hands, would be a gross understatement.

“No, don’t worry about it,” Chris placates, glancing up at Zach when his stomach jerks in and he inhales a breath to say something. Pushing the waistband of Zach’s glorified sweatpants down as far as he can get it, Chris shrugs and says, “Just keep reading.”

Zach’s elbow jerks out and almost hits Chris in the head the second he wraps his mouth around the head of Zach’s cock, but for all intents and purposes he sounds verbally composed as he says, “I’m going to keep reading.”

”That’s what I said,” Chris pulls back to murmur against the side of Zach’s cock, eyes rolling to the side so he can look at the expression on Zach’s face as his mouth pulls into a little half-smile against the ridges of his own knuckles, wrapped loose around Zach’s dick.

Clearing his throat, Zach reverently goes back to the pages of his book.

“I read the synopsis,” Chris interrupts again, pulling his upper body back with a little shift that has his arm coming around from the back of the couch so he can begin jerking Zach off slow and a little loose, skin wet from his mouth. “McSweeny’s loved it.”

A little muscle tics at the edge of Zach’s jaw as he nods, eyes still dutifully trained along the pages of the book even as Chris tightens his grip a little, studying the side of Zach’s profile with an amused smirk on his face.

“I’m going to finish this,” Zach breathes sharp through his nose, hips twisting up a little despite his best intentions when Chris tightens his thumb and forefinger on the upstroke. “Whether I come all over your face as an epilogue or not.”

Laughing, Chris edges himself closer and rocks himself up onto one knee, stopping with the motions just long enough to press Zach’s cock back up and into his own belly, sandwiching it between Zach’s stomach muscles and his own palm as he asks, amused, “Is that a promise?”

”I’ll kill you,” Zach exhales, eyes narrowing as he pointedly ignores Chris’ response, and flips the page instead.

Chris grins for a moment longer, fondly studying the determination shading the line of Zach’s profile before he nudges himself under Zach’s forearms, pushing the bunched fabric of Zach’s yoga pants down a little further with his free hand before he lets Zach’s cock fall away from his belly, not so innocently letting it smack against his cheek.

While Zach doesn’t verbally respond, Chris _knows_ he knows exactly what just hit what, as all of the muscles in his lower belly tense, and his dick gets just a little bit harder.

Tonguing the line of his bottom teeth, Chris glimpses Zach’s face from between his chest and the inside spine of the book with a little tilt of his head, and leans down, opening his mouth a fraction so he can hold Zach’s cock against his bottom lip.

When all Chris gets as a reaction is a surreptitious, hardly noticeable bite of the bottom lip from Zach, Chris very quickly decides that this particular event is going to need all of the stops pulled out, and fast.

“One reviewer said it came across as a little meticulous,” Chris adds thoughtfully, pulling his mouth away from Zach to frown with his bottom lip and add, “I think it won the National Book Award, didn’t it?”

Zach has taken to completely ignoring his existence, now, as he inhales sharply through his nose, and clamps his lips shut.

Funnily enough, Chris takes this as a good sign. He also takes to lowering his head back down, mouth open and warm and wet as he sinks down onto Zach’s cock, tongue pressing against the underside as he inhales sharply through the space left along the roof of his mouth and jerks what he can’t get in with his hand.

Chris has always felt as though he’s had a natural penchant for dick sucking, he’s pretty sure that Zachary would agree in casual conversation, and if it’s going to be anything that breaks this particular little nuance of Zach’s coercion into shards, it’s this.

Settling into a rhythm, Chris widens his jaw a little and goes down, closing his eyes as he sinks as far down as he can and then pulls back up, one of his hands wrapped around the base as the other trails up toward Zach’s belly button, the muscles there tensing and releasing in time with Chris’ sucking and jerking.

The sound of the page scraping against the curve of Zach’s hand as he turns it over is mere punctuation over the noises that Chris is making with his mouth, the sound of spit on flesh, his hand working over the parts of Zach that he can’t get in his mouth, the curve of his palm slapping against the wet spot forming at the top of Zach’s thigh with each and every down stroke.

Chris pulls off after he’s heard Zach go through two pages, head buzzing as he rights his posture, chin shining with spit, the spots above his top lip already turning red and irritated. Breathing a little heavier than he had been before, Chris continues jerking Zach off with one hand, the other steadying himself against the couch cushion as he starts to slide off, and onto the floor.

The only sound Zach manages is when Chris whacks his ankle against the edge of the coffee table and winces in agony, letting his forehead drop down to smack against the upper, fleshier part of Zach’s thigh.

“Are you okay?” Zach asks as Chris’ hand ceases its jerking, and it’s worth something if nothing else just to hear the strain in his voice, the way Chris can tell that he’s consciously timing his breathing to make it sound as though he isn’t panting. “Chris.”

Chris rolls his forehead against Zach’s thigh and then sits back, still frowning a little from the sharp pain in his ankle as he shoves the coffee table six inches back, effectively knocking both of Zach’s feet down from it, his legs dropping apart as both feet thump to the floor in front of Chris’ knees.

“Ankle,” Chris hardly explains, already starting to drag his thumb up and down the side of Zach’s cock as he shuffles around one of Zach’s legs and then ends up between both of them, the insides of his arms rested on the outsides of Zach’s thighs as he looks up, trying to catch a glimpse of Zach’s face from behind his book.

Zach digs his heels into the carpet and pulls himself an inch forward on the couch cushion before going back to his book, forehead creasing in resumed concentration as he starts in on a new page.

Licking the corner of his mouth, Chris picks Zach’s cock up off of his belly and resumes rubbing the pad of his thumb up and down the underside of it, his other hand going down to his own dick to give it a couple of reassuring tugs. Without meaning to he bites his tongue and closes his eyes, hips jerking forward a little as his hand tightens up on Zach’s cock in retribution.

As the roll of sensation passes, Chris manages to open his eyes just long enough to move forward, and sink his mouth all the way down around Zach’s cock, bottom lip snug against the base, the warm skin there.

Despite Zach’s best intentions, and Chris knows that he does have them if not now more than any other time, his entire lower body jerks, legs tightening as his foot scuffs against the carpet to Chris’ left. Chris closes his eyes, and feels Zach’s body tighten up enough to jerk an inch up the couch cushions.

Moaning a little in the back of his throat, Chris pulls up and then sinks back down again, one hand twisting its way down before his mouth, pausing to flatten his palm against the most sensitive part of Zach’s lower stomach when it has nowhere else to go.

Zach’s foot shifts against the carpet again, toes bumping into Chris’ calve, but, despite it all, still managing to maintain his composed exterior as he keeps his eyes open and trained on the blurring text of his book. Pulling back, Chris smiles to nobody in particular, because at this point it’s pretty obvious that Zach isn’t paying attention, and licks his lips, hand trailing back down to jerk the base of Zach’s dick.

One time, when they had been stoned after the premiere in Australia, Zach had let it slip that he loved watching Chris give him head. He had used all these crazy words and descriptions as he’d trailed off every now and then, getting himself hard at the very thought of Chris going down on him.

Despite the weed, Chris still distinctly remembers how Zach had explained to him in detail that his favorite part of getting deep throated was seeing how red Chris’ throat got after. The flush that started at his cheeks, and coasted down over his jaw, the color deep and very evident down the column of Chris’ throat and then down onto his chest.

Thinking about this now, Chris sinks back down onto Zach again, this time settling into a heavy rhythm as he rises up and sinks down over and over, on one upstroke coasting his gaze up to Zach just in time to see his eyes roll a little, kind of half way up before he regains his composition, and rearranges the book in his grasp.

Chris pulls off, breathing heavily, and reaches forward to grab Zach by the hips and tug him forward, stretching his tailbone across the couch cushion as he sinks down again, building up a rhythm between his mouth and his hands that he knows Zach wants to perpetuate. Chris can feel his thighs tensing and cramping with effort of _not_ thrusting the way Chris knows he wants to.

“Come on,” Chris pants, shifting his torso up properly, so he can jerk himself off with one hand and still hold onto the base of Zach’s dick with the other, pausing in the interim to wipe the mess of his face off on the front curve of his own shoulder.

And then suddenly the book’s spine is resting flat against Chris’ forehead, sticking with sweat as Chris pauses, momentarily stunned into silence as he hears the page flip again and Zach’s hips tense beneath him.

It isn’t a sign to stop, a signal that Zach would actually rather read his book than get his dick sucked by a willing significant other – it’s a challenge, a goddamn gauntlet that Chris is going to throw down against and come out as the victor of.

Licking his lips again, Chris butts his head forward against the spine of the book, compromising Zach’s grip on it long enough for him to fumble it but then just make a save in time by pressing it flat against Chris’ head. 

Chris, completely non-phased, stoops forward, and pulls out every dirty trick in the book that he knows will have Zach coming before the last page of _his_ book. 

A red flush starts to creep its way down from Zach’s chest when Chris hollows his cheeks and sinks down with his tongue sliding along the base of Zach’s cock, the roof of his mouth on the top. 

He doesn’t give Zach a chance to recover before pulling up twisting his hand up and down, leaning his head in to suck and lick at the head before he sinks back down again, this incredible cycle that very quickly has both of Zach’s legs shaking, his muscles still trembling with the tension of not letting him thrust. Both of his feet shuffle against the ground to either side of Chris’ body, toes curling into the carpet.

“Mother – augh,” Zach grunts suddenly, the book sliding off of Chris’ head and bouncing down to the floor beside them as he comes, biting his own bottom lip and grabbing the back of Chris’ head as he pumps his hips up off of the couch and against Chris’ face. Chris has to fight his grin and the resounding laughter that comes with it, and then almost chokes in the process.

Pulling his mouth off, Chris bends his elbow up over Zach’s knee and coughs into it, shaking his head as he looks up a little teary-eyed, completely flushed red in the face and clearly very ecstatic about his victory.

“I read _The Chamber_ through the Northridge earthquake,” Zach groans, hips still twitching as he rolls his head against the back of the couch, moaning lamely into the inside of his elbow as he flails a little bit, the sore loser as always.

Head lolling back up, he finally looks Chris in the face, and, unsurprisingly, lets his gaze trail down to the flush creeping up Chris’ throat.

“Terrible natural disaster, or, blowjob. Let’s see,” Chris laughs, voice raspy and low as he starts trying to climb up Zach from the floor, settling half on Zach’s leg and half on the couch, one arm around the back of Zach’s shoulders as he grins, clearly still more proud of himself than not.

Zach lets his head roll back against the couch again as he smirks up at Chris, throat working as he swallows at the funny angle. It’s pretty apparent to them both that he’s still trying to get his breath back to a normal, more regulative rhythm.

Grinning widely, Chris only breaks the expression to tongue at the corner of his own mouth.

“Believe it or not,” He intones, bowing his head so he can bump his forehead against the side of Zach’s, both eyes crossing in an effort to look him in the face. “That was only the prelude to the rest of my plans for the afternoon.”

Zach grins up at him again, one hand coming up to shakily grab at the back of his head as they kiss finally, and then Chris is pulling him backwards and sideways, laughing, down into the couch. Zach stubs his toe on the side table en route, but ends up swallowing Chris’ resulting groan instead.


End file.
